


Dare Not Speak

by chronolynx



Category: Free!
Genre: Angst, M/M, Porn, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 22:31:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3185636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chronolynx/pseuds/chronolynx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sousuke can't have Rin. Mikoshiba can't have Rin, either. They try to get by together. Rin isn't happy. (Nobody is, really.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dare Not Speak

It is late—or early, depending on your point of view. Dark out, a light fog. No stars. Sousuke, as it happens, views it as late, result of a sudden insomnia. (Perhaps less sudden than he will admit.) In the moonless night he draws his jacket closer, against a quick breeze from the sea. Colder than it ought to be. His bag hangs from his shoulder—the good one, he thinks, even as he tries not to. It is difficult to control your thoughts, sometimes.

He heads to the pool out of habit, doubts he'll accomplish much. Something to do, more than anything. An excuse. Back in their shared room Rin still sleeps soundly, chest rising and falling in endless temptation. A dream, or false hope—nothing more. Another thought he'd prefer forgotten. You could drown, your heart broken, in a stream of fantasies conjured by longing. But when you confront reality and find it wanting (find yourself wanting, hungering, filled with desire), what can you do? Walk away from it? Take it by force?

You can drown trying to let go, as well.

The lights are on already when he reaches the pool; he wonders if Nitori forgot to turn them off after a late swim. Instead he finds the younger Mikoshiba changing in the locker room, still wet from swimming. “What are you doing out so early?” he says, his face bright with a smile. “Thought I'd get out of here before anyone else came by.”

“Couldn't sleep.” Sousuke chuckles, then, looking down, he says, “You're hard.”

Mikoshiba blushes—even his ears turn bright pink—and swivels back around. The speedo he just finished removing is still around his feet; he nearly trips, succeeds in banging his head against the lockers. His butt cheeks are crimson as well, Sousuke notes. “Thinking about Rin?” he asks.

“Why would you say that?” Mikoshiba almost shouts, surprised and embarrassed in equal measure. He sinks to the floor, still facing away.

“I've seen how you look at him,” he says, stepping closer with each word. And, leaning in close—breath against his ear, chlorine scent of his hair—he whispers, “He's not gay, you know.” Hand on his chin, he turns Mikoshiba to look at him, and Sousuke grins. “But I am.” Sousuke kisses him quickly. “Have you ever fucked a guy?”

No, he nods, slowly.

“Stand up,” Sousuke says, and when they're both up he leans down and kisses him again, harder. Mikoshiba kisses back, this time, retains some measure of composure. Isn't half bad, really, when he puts some thought into it—and, thinking about it now, Sousuke realizes this could go several ways. He says (hand brushing against Mikoshiba's cock), “You wanna do this?”

“Yes,” he says, and his knees buckle when Sousuke grabs him. And, dick in hand, he is lead to sit on a bench nearby, where Sousuke kneels in front of him and brings his lips to Mikoshiba's groin. His toes curl just from feeling the breath against his skin; tongue has him moaning. His dick throbs inside Sousuke's mouth. It's a pretty cock, Sousuke thinks. Not too big, a slight curve, and sensitive enough that Mikoshiba can't keep quiet at all.

“Did you bring a condom?” he asks between gasps, hand pushing back against Sousuke's shoulder.

“Nope. Does that bother you?”

“Oh. Isn't that risky?”

Sousuke's hand clasps around Mikoshiba's dick. “We're about to fuck in the locker room. Kinda silly to worry about risk now,” he says. “I want your dick in my ass.” He leans forward, mouth against his ear again. “Cum inside me,” he adds (barely a whisper), and he can feel Mikoshiba's dick throb in his hand at the image. He tells Mikoshiba where to find the oil in his bag, takes the opportunity to remove his clothes. Hard already.

“Wow,” Mikoshiba says, when he turns back around, “your dick is huge.”

Sousuke smiles. “Wanna bend over for me? I'll turn you into a bottom before you know it.”

“Definitely not,” he protests. “Impossible.”

“I'll take that as a compliment,” he says. “Now lube up and _fuck_ me.”

He pushes Mikoshiba onto his back, legs to either side of the bench, leans down for another kiss. Squeezes a generous amount of lube onto his hand and applies it to his ass. Sousuke's worried Mikoshiba will cum the second he enters, so he lowers himself slowly, hisses at the initial pressure. “Don't worry about me,” he says when Mikoshiba looks worried. “If you cum too soon I'll make you swim laps all night. Naked.”

It takes a minute, but when he's got Mikoshiba all the way in—pulsing warmth pressing inside him, smooth wet skin against his own—Sousuke holds him still. “Lemme get used to it first,” he says. But after a few moments Mikoshiba starts to move regardless. “Fucker,” Sousuke says, but he lets it slide. It's what he wants, after all. A man will do surprising things for a cock up his ass. The thrusts are uneven, unsure—desperate, almost—but they develop a certain rhythm. And then Mikoshiba cums.

Before Sousuke can say anything, he sits up and kisses him (dick still hard in his ass), leans him onto his back and resumes thrusting like nothing happened. “My special skill,” he says. “I can go at least three times.”

Sousuke can feel the cum inside him, and the little bit dribbling down his thigh. “Harder, ya dumbass,” he says. “We don't have all night.” And as he complies—eagerly, it must be said—Sousuke jerks himself. It is exactly the moment after he reaches his climax—eyes wide in pleasure, head tilted back, Mikoshiba still fucking him, oblivious—that the door opens and Rin enters the room.

Silence. A ceasing of movement.

And then Sousuke laughs.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Rin says.

“Exactly that,” Sousuke says. “Fucking.”

Mikoshiba shrivels into a corner.

“Is this really how you wanna do this?” Rin says, eyes pleading. “Using your own teammate to get off?”

“It was an act of mutual selfishness, I assure you,” Sousuke says as he sits up. (Did he really mean to say that?) “Or have you not seen the way he looks at you?”

“You are _not_ going to use him as a proxy. He deserves better.”

“I don't see that you've left me much choice.”

Ah, there it is, Sousuke thinks. That same look in his eyes. Not quite pity, not quite shock. A hint of anger as well as fear. It makes him remember, and doesn't that just defeat the whole purpose? Those eyes alone send him back in time, two weeks, a silent cloudless blue morning. Sun risen and yellow above the trees. Rin asks him about a dream he had (name on his lips, dead of night). Idly, almost, like he might ask about the weather.

So he tells him, point blank. Love is a cruel word, so young. Does he cry? He can't remember. But Rin's eyes are the same as he says (words etched onto his heart), “Sousuke, I can't love you like that.” The finality of that. “I know,” Sousuke says, then, but it's not what he means—what he  _wants_ to say. Regret and longing, both, entwined in his memory.

Here, now, he knows the thing he meant to say then. He doesn't say it. Instead, he chooses to wound: “You broke my heart.” His voice breaks, despite himself.

“Sousuke—“

“You broke my heart and left me there!” he says. “Three times, you've done that now.” He stands, collects his clothing, dresses himself. “I knew it was hopeless,” he says, “but I said it anyway.” He doesn't know when he started crying, but he can barely see now. 

“Sousuke, I don't know what you want.”

“Neither do I,” he says. “Sucks, doesn't it?” He walks past Rin, opens the door outside.

“Where are you going?”

“I'm taking a walk.” The door shuts. End of discussion. It's lighter out than it was; the fog's cleared and a red sun peeks above the horizon. The air is still. He takes a breath. Colder than it ought to be. He runs. Eyes open wide, face wet, the still-rising sun behind him. Before he knows it he's lost amongst the trees. Exhausted, he sits beneath the nearest and listens to the birds above him. He closes his eyes, wishes he could rest. It's calm, quiet out here. He doesn't hear the footsteps approaching until the snapping of twigs gives them away. When he looks, it's Rin. (Who else?) Knees drawn to his chest he sits beneath the tree, and Rin stands before him.

Sousuke looks up, eyes almost clear. “Do you hate me?” he says (at last he says it). Weakness in his voice he doesn't mean to show. 

Rin's face softens, and, smiling (eyes damp now as well), he offers a hand, and Sousuke takes it.


End file.
